Moving On With The World
by Jakia
Summary: Most assume that when Alistair and a non-noble PC break up at the Landsmeet, Alistair moves on. But what if that's not the case? Sometimes, you need a friend to help guide you in the right direction--even if that means having your ex plan your wedding.


**Title**: Moving On With The World  
**Author**: Jakia  
**Word Count**: ~1000ish  
**Pairing**: Alistair/f!Amell. Yeah, you read that right.  
**Summary**: Most people assume that when Alistair and non-noble PC break up at the Landsmeet, Alistair would move on easily. But what if that's not the case? Sometimes, you need a friend to help guide you in the right direction--even if that means having your ex plan your wedding to another woman.  
**A/N:** This was originally part of a much larger fic (Amell's chapter of my Cullen/Amell story, for those curious) but I cut it because it didn't work right. But it sort of works on it's own, so I thought I would share. Mostly because my Amell is _weird _and practical and would take Alistair dumping her with relative ease, I imagine. Still, thoughts/concerns/criticisms welcome.

* * *

"What color scheme do you like best?" Iza asked, her hands full of color palettes. "Gold and silver go good together—nice regal colors there, and silver has always been the color of Highever so it will look good politically when you marry the Teyrna. But I'm not sure—I rather like the blue, personally. What do you think?"

Alistair stared at her like she had grown another head. "I just want to know if you're_ out of your bleeding mind."_

Iza blinked at him, and then folded the palettes gently. "What do you mean?"

"You're _planning my wedding!"_

"Well, someone has to." She answered, matter-of-factly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You haven't, obviously, and I'm not letting the King of Ferelden get married in his smallclothes, cute as they are."

Alistair just continued to stare at her. "I mean, I just—we broke up _two months ago—_"

"Almost three."

"—and you," He stopped and blinked at her wearily. "Aren't you _upset?_"

Iza snorted. "What would being upset accomplish?"

"It would prove you're a bloody human being, for one thing!" Alistair shouted. "Maker, Iza, I _loved you._ And here you are, _planning my wedding to another woman._"

"Alistair—"

"Did you not love me?" He asked, partly ashamed of himself. "Is that it? You told me you loved me, but were you lying? Is that why this is so easy for you?"

"_Alistair."_ She whispered in _that_ voice, the one that caused shivers to run down his spine, forcing him to pay attention to her. It was her Warden-Commander voice, the one she used when she commanded her troops and disciplined the dog.

He sat up a little straighter.

"Alistair, I _love_ you." And there it was, plain and simple, like the past three months hadn't happened and she was just pretending. "I will _always_ love you."

"Then why?" He asked, pleading with her. "Why did you make me king? Why did you let me break up with you? Why are you _planning my wedding?"_

She paused, pale lips pursed just so, deep in thought. "I thought I was going to die."

He frowned. "Iza—"

"Let me finish. I thought—well, I guess I always thought I was going to die. Mages who help blood mages are sentenced to death. I thought---I thought becoming a Grey Warden was like going to die." She chuckled half-heartedly. "And I guess in some ways, it is, just not how I expected."

He frowned, but let her continue.

"I started planning, early in our adventures, to die." She explained, in the logical way Iza always spoke. "I knew no Grey Warden ever survived the slaying of an archdemon, and I planned to make that sacrifice. I didn't—I didn't _know_ about Morrigan's offer, back then, so I planned to—I don't know, sacrifice myself for the greater good. And I wanted to make sure that when _that_ happened, when I _died_, Ferelden would move on."

"I wanted my friends to be happy." She explained, allowing him a few moments for the information to soak in. "So I talked, a lot. I found out all of your secrets, your plans, your dreams. And I did what I could to make them come true."

He frowned. "What went wrong?"

She scoffed. "_You_ did. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you. Care for you, yes, like a brother, a friend, but not love. But then you gave me that rose, and you kissed me. I—I tried to push you away at first, but then I couldn't. You were so—_you_—and I couldn't resist anymore. You made me _happy_, Alistair. Happier than I had been in a long time."

"So why did you do it, then?" He asked, bitterness forcing itself into his voice. "Why did you make me King?"

"Because it wasn't about what I wanted." She responded. "It was about what was best for Ferelden. And you, Alistair? You're the best damn thing that will ever happen to this country. I made sure of it."

He wasn't sure he believed her. It was a nice feeling though, knowing she believed in him that much. "Why didn't we stay together, then?" He asked softly, remembering their meeting after the Landsmeet. "I would have—I don't know what I would have done, but I would have done _something._"

She shook her head. "You need an heir I can't give you. And I am no man's dirty little secret." He could respect that, at least. She smiled at him sadly, and placed her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I don't think we were meant for forever, Alistair."

"I think you're wrong." He argued. "I think we should have fought for this."

"Maybe." She agreed, or maybe she was just tired of this argument. "I just want you to be happy, Alistair."

"I am happy!" He scowled. _"With you!"_

"Maybe." She smiled. "But I think you'll be even happier with Elissa."

He groaned loudly. "Maker's breath, not this again."

He was sure Elissa Cousland was a perfectly pleasant young woman, but when push came to shove, he just simply didn't want to marry her. He knew, of course, that it was his duty to marry and provide an heir to the throne, but he didn't want to.

He wanted _Iza Amell_, and he wasn't sure any other woman in the world could replace her.

"She's beautiful." Iza continued, oblivious to his disagreements. "Talented. Intelligent. Strong. Maker, she's strong. Charming as can be, too, and—oh, she likes cheese! I made sure of that."

He grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms fitfully.

"In fact, I dare say if you _don't _fall in love with her, it's because you _want_ to be miserable."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, desperate for some sort of answer.

She smiled at him, softly and beautifully. "Because I'm moving on with the world, Alistair. And I think you should, too."

Well, he couldn't fault her that.

"Promise me you'll at least _try_ to get along with her?" Iza asked, batting her eyelashes hopefully.

"I'll try." He promised, reluctantly. "As long as you promise me you won't fall in bed with the first handsome smartass that comes your way."

She held out her pinky. "Promise?"

He linked his pinky to hers. "Promise."

* * *

  
END


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